Catharsis and Revenge
by serenitymeimei
Summary: This was the fourth time in a row that they'd made plans and she hadn't bothered to show up. Callie/Cristina


**Disclaimer:** If Grey's were mine, it would be called Callie's Anatomy.

**A/N:** So, this is what happens when I've been stewing in bed (gross sounding, I know) for two hours and can't fall asleep because I was SO angry at my sister for doing the same exact thing. Call this MY catharsis, minus the revenge, lol!

* * *

Cristina was pissed.

She sat on the edge of her couch, arms crossed, jaw clenched, taking deep, barely controlled breaths as she stared angrily at the front door to the apartment. Willing it to open. Praying to any god that would listen to send her roommate tumbling through it and crashing to the ground in a huge, painful heap of limbs.

Callie was late. Again.

This was the fourth time in a row that they'd made plans and she hadn't bothered to show up. Not including the many times before when she swore that she'd be meet her somewhere in a few minutes, but ended up arriving anywhere between two and five _hours_ later.

It was the last straw.

Finally, she heard a key slip into the lock and Callie walked through without a care in the world.

"Hey," she smiled, setting down her purse on the table near the coat rack.

Cristina sneered, "_Hey_? Seriously!?"

Callie frowned, her eyes wide in confusion. Frozen mid-step. It made her want to stab her with a ten blade.

"What the hell crawled up your ass?"

She stood, the blood finally returning to her lower half after sitting there for most of the night, waiting.

"What crawled up _my_ ass?" her fists balled up at her sides, "_You_! I love you like the freaky, hair eating sister that I never had, but I swear to God, Torres I'm gonna to kill you!"

Callie's mouth dropped open in shock and she took a step back. The slightest sense of satisfaction trickled through her at that.

"What? Why?!"

Cristina moved forward. Her face flushed, muscles rippling with frustration. Her patience was wearing thin.

"We had plans!" she exclaimed in disbelief, "And guess what? You didn't show up! Big freaking surprise!"

Callie's face fell.

"But that's not even the worst part!" Cristina continued, "I keep letting myself fall into your trap. We make plans, you're running late, then magically, three hours later, you show up like I hadn't just pressed pause on my life and sat on my ass waiting for you to finally get around to making an appearance! It's getting old. And quite frankly, if you're not going to bother being somewhere _on time_ then don't make plans with me in the first place! It's rude!"

Her roommate just stood there. She could practically feel the air crackling with tension. This confrontation had been a long time coming.

"Well? Aren't you going to say something?"

The older residents lips moved like she was about to talk, maybe even apologize, but nothing came out.

"You know what? Never mind," Cristina snapped, "I don't want to hear it. I'm going to bed."

She'd had enough.

The next morning she woke to an empty apartment. It was close to 11am, and though she felt relieved that she'd finally gotten everything off of her chest there was a certain sense of guilt that came along with it.

Padding out into the kitchen, she opened the fridge and grabbed the orange juice, taking a sip straight from the carton. Her stomach rumbled, protesting the intrusion, asking for more. Another gulp later, she turned and the sunlight streaming in through the windows reflected off of something sliver sitting in the middle of the island.

Upon closer inspection, Cristina realized that it was a package of Callie's most beloved poptarts. The ones that she bought in bulk and hid in her closet like a pack rat so that nobody would steal them. What the hell were they doing in out in the kitchen?

Curious, she picked them up. To her surprise, stuck to the other side was a bright blue post-it, with flowing, girly handwriting, so perfect that it made you want to kick puppies. There were only four words on it.

_'I'm so sorry, Cristina.' _

The corners of her mouth flickered, showing the tiniest hint of a smile.

It was a start.

But for now, she had to go enjoy a particularly delicious toaster pastry in the direct line of sight of the only ortho resident at Seattle Grace.

Revenge was definitely going to be sweet.

**End.**


End file.
